


The Art of Avoiding Homework

by OverMyFreckledBody



Series: Nonspooky 30 Day Writing Challenge [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Derek, M/M, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 21:51:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11426916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: With it being the end of the school year, there is, as always, way too much homework - too much that Stiles has been putting off. He should really finish it all.But if Derek comes along with an opportunity to get out of it... he'll take what he can get.





	The Art of Avoiding Homework

**Author's Note:**

> _[Writing Challenge](http://overmyfreckledbody.tumblr.com/post/130301046413/commodorecliches-30-day-writing-challenge) Day 03. Your character has to fight something - the item closest to you is now your character’s only weapon. _  
> 
> ...it was a fucking pencil

                Pencil tucked behind his ear and everything straightened perfectly, Stiles feels organized enough to do his homework finally. He’s been putting it off for a while now, but now he’s run out of excuses. It’s been pretty quiet – both with the near death experiences and the social outings – and he knows that everyone else is either relaxing while they can, or busy doing something, so he can’t use any of them to get out of being productive either. Any other time, with any other thing he would need to do, and shit would be all over the place, he knows, so he should really do it now.

 

                But. He can’t. He just can’t get himself to do read through the first paragraph explaining whatever it’s supposed to be writing about or… something. He hasn’t made it passed the instructions yet.

 

                Procrastination has totally made him its bitch.

 

                …Maybe a snack would help.

 

                (Who’s he kidding? It’s not gonna help him, he knows, but it’ll be a distraction and if he has to stare at the wall for even a single minute longer he’s going to give in and turn on his xbox.)

 

                Ignoring the fact that he’s probably going to start on an early dinner instead of just grabbing a simple snack, he heads downstairs and towards the kitchen. He doesn’t think he has anything easy to just snag and make his way back upstairs, but unless his dad ate the last of the lunch meat, he can probably make himself a sandwich. At least he can dress it up with a tomato and some condiment (depends on what’s there and what he’s craving – won’t know until he gets a look) since his dad won’t touch the ones in the fridge. Stiles doesn’t understand the hatred of tomatoes, all anybody’s gotta do is sprinkle a little salt on them and they’re delicious.

 

                He gets down to the kitchen and goes straight for the fridge. When he bends down to look, his pencil falls from his ear, but he picks it up, planning on just holding it in his mouth when he starts to grab ingredients. He seems to be in luck with said ingredients, as while their options are starting to look a little sparse, they not only have lunch meat, but it’s salami, too. Hell, if they have any cheese that isn’t shredded (and even on that, he might not even be picky about it) he’ll probably make himself a press. Warm and cheesy, with tomato and mustard… That sounds delicious.

 

                Just as he’s reaching to look through one of the drawers for their cheese options, he hears a noise that he should not be hearing in a house that’s supposed to – save himself – be _empty_.

 

                It’s the creak of the back door that leads to the kitchen. It’s pretty soundless when it’s opened, but when he’s shut it makes this almost whining sound that always seems louder when it’s pulled slowly. Since he’s supposed to be home alone and it’s supposed to be _locked_ , he’ll admit that he does kind of seem a little jumpy when he spins to see who’s opening it and raises his pencil up to defend himself.

 

                Of course, and he really shouldn’t even be surprised by this, it’s just Derek staring back at him.

 

                Derek, who doesn’t look the slightest bit threatened by Stiles’ quick movements and weapon of choice. His eyes pointedly dip from the tip of the pencil, then back to Stiles’ face. “Wow,” he says drily, like it’s Stiles acting erratically, like he hadn’t just stepped into his home uninvited. “You almost got me with… lead poisoning.”

 

                Though he does lower the pencil (no point in tucking that behind his ear again), he’s sure that his obvious suspicion is clear on his face, especially with the way he squints, trying to work out what Derek’s deal here is this time. “There isn’t actually any lead in pencils – only graphite. And you’re not very likely to get a poisoning from me stabbing you with one.”

 

                Derek frowns, but says nothing. He’s probably waiting for Stiles to ask why he’s here, which with anyone else would probably be a power move, but with Derek, it’s probably actually that he’s just being awkward. Wouldn’t be the first time. Stiles bites.

 

                “I know this is an improvement from the window, so I won’t say anything, but you have to know what’s wrong with what you just did.”

 

                Kind of. He _kind of_ bit that.

 

                Okay, not really.

 

                “You need to look at a couple of things.” Probably at the loft, probably some maps or weird things Derek found around the woods, probably’ll take too long to get a lot of homework done.

 

                Not like he was going to do much anyway. Searching for clues and trying to repress shivers and homoerotic thoughts when Derek leans over his shoulder a little too closely, or when his fingers skim against the backs of Stiles’ as they look at things together – while probably not the option that screams _pick me!_ is honestly a much more entertaining one. Maybe this time he’ll convince Derek to at least go through a drive-through this time.

 

                “Sure,” he replies, aiming for casual, but having to turn away to do it. He shoves everything back into the fridge and shuts it. Derek’s holding the back door open for him when he’s finished, one eyebrow raised that Stiles ignores, and he shoves past, both thankful and hating the small space that makes him press into Derek’s warmth. “’ll never pass up the opportunity to ride in the Camaro.”

 

                The door squeaks shut behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my 100th work posted and I don't know why it came to me as a surprise that it would be this


End file.
